I never really noticed before.
I'm not who I thought I was.
I don't know who I am, but I can tell you now
I don't deserve what I have, but
I do deserve what I got.

I drove you all away from me - thought
it was funny - but
now I have no-one who cares,
no-one to understand.
And it's all my fault.
I don't deny that.

I know it's true,
deep down,
but I've buried that part of me under
false hope,
lies,
secrets,
darkness,
and now I'm suffocating myself.

I can't breathe - the poison has spread
too far to go back now.

If I said I'd done nothing wrong,
I'd be lying; and yes,
I do that a lot.
I lie to you
to them
to myself
because...
because...
because I can do nothing else.

I'm numb with pain that shouldn't be there -
there's no reason under the sun for what I did,
and also what I didn't.
It's a way of a hard life, which
I have chosen to live.
In some god-forsaken land, I might be happy,
if I knew what happiness was.

Emotion evades me, mostly,
if I even bother to try and feel a thing.
But sometimes I remember and regret.
I had so much, but I threw it all away,
just because I could.

Walking on into the mist,
I don't know what lies ahead.
But I do know that it's my fault,
I brought it on myself.
I can't see my own hands in front of my face,
as they selfishly grapple with a razor blade.
Scars to remind me
what
and when
and who
and where
but never why...

And it all fades to black
insignificance again
leaving me to wonder
if anything is real anymore.